


A Last Gift

by tehkittykat



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Love Letters, Not Canon Compliant, Past Character Death, Screw you JJ Abrams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehkittykat/pseuds/tehkittykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, babe. You won't believe the week I had."</p>
<p>Han Solo is a scoundrel and a hopeless romantic. As if little things like personal betrayal and galactic-scale war would really keep the nerf herder from his princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Last Gift

"Hey, babe. You won't believe the week I had."

This late at night, even leaving the recording at nearly sub-audible levels sounds too loud, drowning out the insect drone of the jungle life outside. Curled on her side, Leia Organa pulls her blanket over her head and lets it draw the world down to just this, the screen in her shaking hands and the familiar, beloved, crooked smile in front of her.

"I mean, I bet you can guess some of it."

She had, when the packet went through and she found a moment to actually watch it. Han's grin, framed by the arch of the  _ Falcon's _ ceiling, was infectious.

"So I maybe pissed off a couple of crime syndicates yesterday, but that's not the big news. Check this out."

The screen flickered with the static of a spliced-in surveillance camera. Even now, Leia can't help a smile at the sight-- Rey and Finn and BB-8, playing dejarik with Chewbacca. Finn's face torn so blatantly between stubborn pride and a healthy desire to keep both arms attached while Chewbacca informed them that the k'lor'slug  _ of course _ had armor-eating acid spit. 

"The kids are Finn and Rey, and I found your droid. Not sure about Dameron. Finn tells me that he sank on Jakku, but you know how this shit gets," Han said, his voice overlaying the picture until flipping back. 

Leia touches the screen, sighing softly as she traces the lines on his face, etched by smiles and sadness in equal measure.

"I hope you got the last bank transfer. It should keep you running for a while longer. I'm gonna need to lay low, and the kids need to get to you. What do you think of a trip to Maz Kanata's? It's no pleasure moon of Rill, but I was thinkin' maybe we can steal a couple hours while the kids all shriek at each other. Bring Dameron if you've got him. I think Finn might have a crush."

It was funny how much their relationship ended as it began. Hours, if they were lucky the occasional day, snatched from the exigencies of a desperate cold war. Making out in supply closets, passing barbs and vital intelligence, letting the rest of the galaxy believe that the scoundrel and the princess were just that-- two people of vastly different spheres and never the twain should meet. Some of her younger recruits had sighed about star-crossed love, doomed before it ever had a chance. As if Leia Organa and Han Solo hadn't  _ already  _ weathered war, loss, betrayal, and the creeping suspicion that maybe  _ this one _ would be the one they  _ didn't _ get out of.

Han used to think it was hilarious.

"Sounds like the boy's on the move, too," Han says now in the recording, his smile fading. "Snoke's got him looking for Luke specifically, now. I guess he's trying to make a  _ real  _ Sith out of him."

"Oh, Han," she whispers to his pensive look. "It was  _ you." _

Would it have been  _ better  _ if Han finished his self-imposed mission, and tracked down their Ben before that last goodbye? 

She doesn't know.

Han rambles on-- burst-transmissions were generous on file-size allowances, and he always took advantage of them to fill the air with the sound of his voice. It puts her to sleep, has since the restless nights of her pregnancy-- as it is this night, a last gift even after his light was extinguished. He talks about his cargo manifests-- food and medicine for worlds trapped on the borders of the would-be new Empire, weapons for some of her Resistance cells operating on the Rim. About the ever-growing list of petty crime lords who want his head after one sleight-of-hand deal or another. Han did more in his years in deep space than Judicial did in generations to take the piss out of the galaxy's organized crime. 

She can't think about that now. She can't think about the funding, the always-on offer to ferry key supplies, his charming way of spying for them. No one else knows, and she wants to keep it that way. Let the First Order, let  _ Snoke  _ think that she's broken for simple personal reasons.

An Empire was in shambles after they  _ dared  _ destroy her first home. Leia  _ will  _ make sure that history repeats itself.

Han winds down, after telling her about Rey and their moment of commiseration over some of the stupider modifications to the  _ Falcon  _ that happened in Han's absence. She'll like Rey, he says. She does.

"Looks like I'm running out of message," the Han of her memories says, sprawled in the pilot's chair as if he'd never left. "Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll beat this dumb thing to you, but if I don't...

"So I was at Kabray Station, and I saw this idiot trying to play troubadour. Had this kid blushing, but what he said.. All right, most of it was complete drivel, but. I dunno, it sounds sappy, but the way you and Luke sometimes talk about Force bonds."

Han always ran in circles when he was consciously trying to be romantic. Every damn time, for thirty years. Leia smiles at the screen, the sting of tears in her eyes.

"He said he had to go, but it was all right. They were connected forever-- and I swear, if he'd asked for a blowjob I think that kid would have given it to him right there.

"Actually, hey, that's an idea."

She laughs, as she had when she first played the message. 

"How does it go?" 

She mouths the words as Han speaks them across time and death.

"Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. 

"Pretty smooth, right?"

"I've heard smoother," Leia whispers as Han-of-the-past leaned in, the image of his jacket eating the screen. It flickered, hanging up on his eyes, the smile he reserved just for her.

"Love you, Leia. I'll see you soon. Take care."

The prompt to replay the recording takes over the screen, but Leia flicks it off and sets her datapad on her bedside table blind. In the soft confines of the blanket, she can almost imagine her husband gathering her in. 

"I love you, too," she whispers to the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> I make no apologies for blatantly ripping off Vulcan gestures of romance because you know that Han Solo is the kind of dude who _would._
> 
> I reject Disney's reality and substitute my own.


End file.
